Poem describes the life of a hunter’s wife

wifeThe Deer Hunter’s Wife

It starts with the dove all fatted and gray

She knows it soon will be opening day

 

The air is crisp with the scent of fall

He’s very excited to try his new grunt call

 

She never tries to fight it, for there is no use

At least this year she doesn’t have to learn how to cook up a moose

 

He has been waiting all year for this day to come

When he can pull the trigger on that long-barreled gun

 

The freezer is empty, she has run out of ground

She never thought she would make it through those last ten pounds

 

And again he returns to his old camo blind

He’s after that nine with a single drop tine

 

She takes off the silk and pulls out the flannel

Instead, he will be stalking some antlered animal

 

Why bother shaving? She has no desire

At this moment he is warmed by the deer camp fire

 

twifeShe knows that he loves her, but his heart is torn

He has been a deer hunter since the day he was born

 

This year seems colder than years before

How will she make it through three months more?

 

He checks all the pictures on the game camera card

At least she is thankful there are no pigs in her yard

 

She finds corn in the dryer and burrs in her jammies

Thank the Lord, so far, she’s found none in her panties

 

She has washed all his camo with Scent-Lok soap

As she hangs up the Realtree, she vows not to mope

 

While he lines up his sights on a big black hog

Her toes are warmed by a pile of dogs

 

She searches her cookbooks and pulls out the All-Clad

How in hell does one cook an aoudad?

 

The house will be clean, but for him she yearns

She leaves on the lights and awaits his return

 

Oh Lord, please let him have horns in that truck

But, just where will he put that son of a buck?

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